ce. Form your party, Monsieur Guillot, spread your tidings in
any way that seems fit to you, only until the hour comes, guard that
document as you would your soul. Its possession would mean death to you
as it would to me."

Monsieur Guillot took the document and buttoned it up in his inside
pocket.

"Supposing I succeed," he said quietly, "what of your country then?"

"My country will make peace," Granet replied.

"It will be a peace that will cost us much, but nothing more than we
deserve. For generations the war has been the perfectly obvious and
apparent sequence of European events. It threw its warning shadow across
our path for years, and our statesmen deliberately turned their heads
the other way or walked blindfolded. Not only our statesmen, mind, but
our people, our English people. Our young men shirked their duty,
our philosophers and essayists shirked theirs. We prated of peace and
conventions, and we knew very well that we were living in times when
human nature and red blood were still the controlling elements. We
watched Germany arm and prepare. We turned for comfort towards
our fellow sinners, America, and we prattled about conventions and
arbitration, and hundred other silly abstractions. A father can watch
the punishment of his child, Monsieur Guillot. Believe me, there are
many other Englishmen besides me who will feel a melancholy satisfaction
in the chastisement of their country, many who are more English, even,
than I."

Monsieur Guillot passed away from the personal side of the matter.
Already his mind was travelling swiftly along the avenues of his own
future greatness.

"This is the chance which comes to few men," he muttered. "There is
Dejane, Gardine, Debonnot, Senn, besides my own followers. My own
journal, too! It is a great campaign, this which I shall start."

Granet rose to his feet.

"After to-day I breathe more freely," he confessed. "There have been
enemies pressing closely around me, I have walked in fear. To-day I am
a free man. Take care, monsieur. Take care especially whilst you are in
England."

Monsieur Guillot extended his hand.

"My young friend," he said, "in the years to come you and I shall
perhaps meet in our wonderful Paris, and if I may not tell the world so,
I shall yet feel, as we look upon her greatness, that you and I together
have saved France. Adieu!"

Granet made his way along the empty corridor, rang for the lift and
descended into the hall. A smile wa